


Slumber Party

by ClaraxBarton



Series: VegasLand [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Cuddles, Established Relationship, Graduate School, Las Vegas, M/M, Modern AU, Soft Boys, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-27 19:49:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20765993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/pseuds/ClaraxBarton
Summary: Bucky risks the wrath of nature to spend a little time with Clint.





	Slumber Party

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RandomYarning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomYarning/gifts).

> A continuation of Pool Party, but you don't have to read that to understand this or appreciate it. Still, it DOES give more background so I suggest giving that a read before or after.
> 
> Now beta read by the amazing Ro!!!

* * *

* * *

As far as Bucky could tell, it rained once a year in Las Vegas.

Once. A. Year.

So, of course, it rained the night that he walked over to Clint’s apartment after finishing up in the lab.

Clint and Natasha shared one of the duplex townhouses beyond the rows of crappy strip malls on the other side of Maryland Parkway.

Bucky was already to Maryland, already nearly a mile from his own parked car on the other side of campus, when it started to rain.

Vegas rain wasn’t like rain anywhere else that Bucky had ever been.

It was incredibly forceful, to the point of being violent, and Bucky was soaked within maybe two minutes.

Soaked and still a mile from Clint’s house, and a mile from his car and…

And, frankly, after the week from hell - as Bucky would think of this week for at least the next month until something worse came along - Bucky couldn’t fucking deal with this.

He hunched his shoulders and shoved his hands in his pockets and hoped to all fuck that his backpack was some kind of waterproof, because this rain was like a monsoon and there was literally no escaping it.

Bucky half-ran, half-jogged the mile to Clint’s place, soaked Converse sneakers flapping in the rain, every stitch of clothing he wore pasted to his body and moving with soggy, sullen slaps against his skin.

It was October, so of course the rain wasn’t cold - not that Bucky thought that would have been good - but it meant that the rain was lukewarm and almost actually warm, and it was so deeply unpleasant that Bucky struggled to remember having felt this awful in years. 

By the time he made it to Clint’s house, it felt like he had been in the rain for hours, felt like he was some kind of creature from the primordial soup of prehistoric Earth, or maybe just some kind of swamp monster, and he all but collapsed against Clint’s front door as he rang the doorbell and also pounded on the door with his right hand.

He was so miserable and out of it that he didn’t even think about physics and what would happen when Clint actually opened the door. So, when Clint did open the door, Bucky stumbled and started to fall face-first inside, and only Clint catching him prevented Bucky’s soggy ass from falling onto his carpeted floor.

“Buck? Fuck, Bucky you’re- you’re wet.”

It was only because Clint was very, very hot and very, very amazing and very, very good in bed that Bucky refrained from saying anything and just glared at him while Clint closed and locked the door and stared at Bucky in open-mouthed wonder.

Clint stared back at him for a moment, and then seemed to shake himself.

“C’mon. Let’s get you out of those clothes and into something dry and, fuck, you walked in this?”

Again, Bucky’s absolute devotion to Clint’s dick kept him from snapping, but it was a near thing.

Clint tugged at Bucky’s backpack straps, and that finally spurred Bucky into action.

He shrugged it off with a grimace, and watched Clint deposit it on the kitchen table while Bucky started to take off his shoes and socks and… everything else.

“You poor bastard,” Clint sighed, and shook his head.

“Yeah,” Bucky had to agree. Because yeah. Yeah.

“I’m gonna grab a towel and some sweats for you, okay?”

Bucky nodded, and Clint disappeared upstairs while Bucky continued to strip right there on small welcome mat that was covered with bees that Clint swore Natasha had purchased while Natasha insisted it had been Clint. Bucky was curious as to who was actually responsible, but he had yet to be dumb enough or drunk enough to challenge the contradictory claims.

Clint bounded down the stairs a moment later and tossed a pair of sweatpants over the back of the couch and approached Bucky with the towel.

Bucky reached for it, but Clint just shook his head and, smirking a little, started to dry Bucky off himself.

It felt… really good.

Even as Bucky started to get a little cold with all the wet and the sub-arctic AC temperature that Clint and Natasha kept their apartment set to, he couldn’t help but close his eyes and lean into Clint’s touch, and kind of wanted it to just keep going on for forever.

“Can’t decide if you’re more like a dog after a bath or a cat getting petted,” Clint murmured, smile evident in his voice.

“‘M not a pet,” Bucky growled.

“‘Course you’re not,” Clint agreed, and dragged his nails over Bucky’s jaw - not quite scratching, not quite petting, but all the same making Bucky arch into the touch.

Clint laughed and pulled Bucky close.

Bucky had just enough time to open his eyes and take in Clint’s smile before they were kissing, warm and easy and familiar.

After two months, this thing between them, this bringing each other coffee and snacks when they worked late and spending half of their nights together in one of their beds and texting and calling several times a day, it felt like it had maybe been between them for years, and might be between them for years to come. Maybe longer.

It made Bucky a little intimidated, sometimes, to think about how easily he and Clint fit together, how even their rough edges seemed softer when they were together, how even the worst shit Bucky’s brain could throw at him felt a little less awful when he had Clint’s arms or his voice or his back or his lips to coax him out of the darkness.

“Missed you,” Clint said after he pulled away.

“You saw me this morning,” Bucky reminded him. “We showered together at my place.”

“Yeah, but that was like… twelve hours ago.”

Bucky snorted a laugh, but before he could comment, Clint threw the towel over Bucky’s head and started to vigorously scrub at his hair.

“I’m going to look awful,” Bucky groaned.

“I think you mean adorable.”

“I’m not adorable.”

“Sure you are.” Clint tugged the towel down and laughed as he took in Bucky’s hair. Bucky didn’t need a mirror to know he looked ridiculous. “See. Adorable.”

“I hate you.”

“Aw, is that what you say to the guy you’re about to marathon Indiana Jones with?”

Bucky still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that Clint had never seen any of the Indiana Jones movies. It was unAmerican, at the very least.

Clint pulled the towel away entirely and used it to bundle up Bucky’s wet clothes.

“I’m gonna throw these in the wash,” he said, gaze drifting over Bucky’s naked body with enough heat and interest that Bucky thought about suggesting they put off the marathon for a while.

But then Clint was walking away, and Bucky decided to pull on the sweatpants, which were a little tight because, as Clint had pointed out on multiple occasions, Bucky had an ass and thighs that did not quit.

He made himself comfortable on the couch, a soft, well-worn thing in a hideous celery color that Clint and Natasha had picked up from the hotel furniture warehouse downtown - apparently, it had been in one of the hotels demoed three years ago just off the Las Vegas Strip.

Clint joined him a few minutes later, carrying two open bottles of Brooklyn Pilsner and a huge, half-empty bag of Reese’s Pieces.

Bucky lifted his arm and spread his legs and, with a grin, Clint settled his back against Bucky’s chest and sank into the space between his thighs.

Bucky pressed a kiss to the back of Clint’s neck, and Clint queued up Raiders.

“I missed you too,” he said.

-o-

  
  



End file.
